This space is getting hot

Upstate Maine 

        Unless I figure out some course of action in the next ten minutes, this guy's not going to let me walk

away from this, Eddie Pena thought as the State Trooper walked over to his patrol car with Pena's license

and the cars registration. 

        For one thing the name on the registration was Robert Feldman, of Miami Beach Florida, his 

neighbor at his condo. They had hung out on each others porches drinking beer and telling war stories, 

'Bob', was a retired union official from Chicago, who had ties to the Chicago Outfit (according to him)

Eddie had enjoyed Bob's stories and had, in turn, told him about growing up in El Salvador and his

experience fighting in the civil war over there. Eddie hadn't told him about his past with the drug gangs

in California, but he'd hinted in their conversations that he was familiar with that world.

        Bob was away a lot, about 6 months of the year, where exactly Eddie had never asked, and Bob had

never offered. However, as a result, Bob was told Eddie he could use his Cadillac when he was away, as

long as he took checked up on it, made sure it was running smooth, it was good to have someone driving

it anyone so it wasn't just sitting there, he'd heard that was bad for the car. 

        So when Eddie had decided to head back up North, the Cadillac had seemed the most logical choice.

He hadn't been sure if Bob was away or if he was home, but before he took the car he'd slid an envelope 

with 15,000 dollars under Bob's door with a  brief note. 

        Eddie was going to stop in Warner to take care of Mojo, but in the end he'd decided to nix that plan.

The more he'd thought about it, Mojo was too much of an idiot to be any real threat to him. So he'd 

decided instead to drive most of the way up, from Florida to Maine, see if everything was ok at his house,

then maybe get back in the drug game in a few months. 

        Now this stupid, pudgy, jackass threatened to fuck that all up, Eddie thought, glancing over quickly

to watch him sitting in his car, running his information. When he'd first spotted the trooper, he'd been in 

one of those medians in the highway, and it just seemed like coincidence, after all there were a couple cars

on the road with him, but then the cop had stayed with him. Then, when he'd made the turn off the 

highway to the state road that would take him to the dirt road that led to his house, the cop had followed.

Before taking his license and registration the trooper had told him his taillight was out, which Eddie

doubted because he'd checked all that stuff before he'd left. He'd read to many stories of drug dealers with

cars full of drugs stopped and busted because of broken light or something like that.

        Even if he could explain to the trooper that he knew that man and borrowed the car from time to time

and that they had come to a kind of unwritten agreement, he knew that wouldn't fly. Plus he'd search the

car, find the guns, the cash, he'd ask questions, it was no good. 

        Why didn't he ask me about the car when he pulled me over? Eddie thought as he looked into his rear

view and watched the trooper sitting in his car. The sun had just started to rise. Was he waiting for back

up? He'd driven by stops on the highway like that before. Still, he thought, this is a pretty isolated stretch 

of road, would he view me as that much of a threat?

        If we was smart, Eddie thought as he noticed the large shape of the trooper getting out of the vehicle

and heading towards his car. Gun would be too loud, too messy at this range he thought as the trooper

came closer to his window, knife would be even worse, going to have to do this the old fashioned way.

        Eddie rolled down the window, 'Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle.' The 

trooper said as he came up to his window. 'Why certainly officer.' Eddie said, unbuckling his seat belt and

straightening his right hand for the strike.

        He opened the door and as he turned to face the trooper he struck him hard with his right hand 

directly into his Adams apple. The trooper's face was shock as he gasped for breath and Eddie struck him

in the same spot again. 

       Damn shame, Eddie thought the trooper fall to the ground, breathing his last breaths. He'd move the

car to the side of the highway somewhere, make it look like its a speed trap. The body he could dispose of

in the woods, he knew a few spots that he'd used before. He could weather this particular incident, but

there was no way he could go back to living in that house. He'd have to just grab what he needed, find

somewhere else to hang his hat.

Brooklyn New York

1 week later

'   ' Don't worry kid, we'll be fine, I know this guy from way back when.' Steve Berardi was sitting next to 

his nephew, Matteo, in front of Pasquales Italian Villa, smoking a cigarette. Matteo said nothing just sat

there with that same uncomfortable look he'd had the whole drive over. Matteo had barely spoken to him

drive over, and in fact, had been quite cool to him since he'd told him that New York wanted a sit-down 

with them. 

        'Yeah, I'm sure it will be fine.' Matteo replied indifferently. Probably blames me for us being sent for

out here, Steve thought. Little prick, I could just as easily blame him for the fire the investigators said it 

was spread from all the greasy rags all over the place and he'd heard the place had almost failed it's last 

health inspection. Maybe if Matteo, as the fucking manager had been there more and kept the place up, 

hired a crew that gave a shit, maybe the fire wouldn't have been so disastrous. 

      Tony Carbone, the one who had called for the sit-down, was Bobby's cousin and a powerful Capo in

Brooklyn who managed the Warner family for his superiors. He had been there at this same restaurant 

when Steve had had his last sit-down in New York, 31 years earlier in '79. He'd gotten into a fight with a

couple of guys who'd he caught grabbing his wife's ass in a club in Hartford. He'd fucked up one of the 

guys pretty good, broke his jaw, a couple ribs, his nose. He hadn't thought much of it after, just a couple

assholes who got what was coming to them, until he'd found out those two assholes were connected to

New York, both made guys. 

        That one had ended in his favor, he'd had to pay the guy a decent chunk of change, 15k he thought it

was, but Steve also knew a big part was that his brother, the boss of the Berardi Family in Warner, had

come with him and vouched for him.

        He put his cigarette out in the ashtray. Well, there not going to kill us, he thought as a man emerged

from the restaurant, a big bulky gorilla type, Steve thought.

    'He's ready for you now.' The gorilla said and Steve got up, following the man inside. He felt like he'd 

stepped back into the past as he walked inside, the place looked exactly like it did 31 years ago, the black

and red checkered tablecloths, the pictures of the Rat Pack, Sinatra, Dean Martin, on the walls as well as

pictures of a few more infamous Italians, Lucky Luciano, Carlo Gambino, John Gotti.

        The big man led them to the back of the restaurant where Tony Carbone was seated at a table with

a plate of pasta and a glass of red wine, Steve and Matteo took seat across from him and the big man sat

to the side, observing.'

        'You guy's hungry?' Tony asked as they sat down. 'I know it's a long ride out here.' 'No, I'm good.'

Matteo said, and Steve replied the same. I just want to get this thing over with, Steve thought. Autumn, 

Shannon's roommate who'd given him the ride down to the House of Venus the night Shannon's apartment

had been broken into and everything, including Steve's bag with 700,000 something dollars in it, had gone

home to see her parents the day after it happened. She'd been gone since then, almost 8 days and Shannon

couldn't even get in touch with her, she wouldn't answer any of her calls. 

            Tony took a bite of his pasta, sipped his wine. 'Alright, well, I guess I'll get right to it then. Our 

families, New York and yours out there, have had a long history, going back to Angelo Berardi in the

1930's, we've made money together. We've never had to worry too much about what was going on out

there because we felt we had good people in charge who knew what they were doing. You're brother 

Carmine, Steve, in the 70's and 80's, he was making a lot of money, things were smooth.'

            'Even in the early 90's when you guys had all those indictments and Carmine got convicted and a

lot of your guys ended up going away, Carmine's brother Sal managed to hold the family together pretty

good. Then when my cousin Bobby took over a few years back, I was excited, I knew how long he'd been

waiting for the spot, how much he wanted it, and before a couple weeks back I actually thought he was 

doing a decent job.'

        He took a sip of his wine. Jeez is he ever going to get to the fucking point? Steve thought.  'Then I get

up, one morning to read my morning paper, and the first thing on the front page I see is about a well

known informant shot dead beside some creek in New Hampshire. Shot from a distance it read. No

suspects. Now when I read about how he was killed, how they had no suspects, I knew he didn't send

somebody from his own crew to do it, no offense.' 

        'But regardless of who actually did it the fact that it was done at all was what first got me to thinking,

wondering what the hell you guys were doing out there. I know my cousin, Bobby, he always followed 

orders, never made waves. So this got me to wondering what was going on out there that would cause him

to hit a guy that I and other friends of ours told him not to hit. What else is going on out there I don't know

about? I thought to myself. So I called up my PI, good guy, used to be a detective in the Organized Crime

unit, and I sent him out there to do some digging.'

        Bobby shook his head, reached into the jacket pocket and took out a few photos and handed them to

Steve. He looked, it was him and the Russian meeting in the Kmart parking lot for the ransom money.

'You've been busy, my friend.' Bobby said, grinning. 

    'You've been watching me?' Steve asked, a note of rage in his voice. 'Yes I have, and I know you this

might be hard for you to understand, but your actions in that shitty little burg you call home can have

long reaching effects. Now, I'm not singling you guys out here, if my cousin Bobby hadn't died in that

mysterious fucking fire a week ago, he'd be sitting right where you are now and I'd be talking to him the

same way I'm talking to you now.'

        'Now if Bobby was reached out to me, when all this was going on, these Russians taking over your

club, threatening your families, there actually a good chance I could have gotten him to back off, leave

you guys alone.'

        'He didn't want to bother you.' Matteo spoke up suddenly. 'He said you have enough problems of your

own to worry about.'

        Tony smirked, took another sip of wine. 'Which I appreciate on some level, I really do. But between 

his cutting a deal with a major drug cartel without telling me, to your waging your own one man war 

against those Russian fucks like your the goddamn Mujahideen, it's all created a lot of problems for me out

here. Boris Kerimov and his organization were one of our biggest customers for coke, now they won't buy

from us. He sent his guys to take out a couple stash apartments all around the city last week, and killed 

like 20 of their guys. They put a fucking sign at each hit, with the name of the cartel boss out there, 

something implying that this was his fault. Then of course the cartel hit the Russians back, hard, now

there's a goddamn war going on with those two and they're not doing business with anyone.'

        'There's a damn good reason Luciano and them set up this thing of ours the way it is back in the day.

So we wouldn't have these wars and fighting all the time. Because this kind of shit cuts into our business,

our livelihoods.'

        Fuck that, Steve thought, 'They had people watching our houses! Our fucking families. 'Were 

supposed to just back and do nothing!'

        'No. And if I were you I'd watch my tone. What Bobby should have done was contact me, told me the

what was going on and I probably could have done something about it. Now instead, because it seems like

all of you out there seem to be doing your own thing, I've got FBI agents up my ass and every made guy in

my family, even more than I usually do, asking if anyone knows anything about who killed that piece of 

shit rat fuck.'

        'I got money coming out of me and my families pocket because these Russians won't do business 

with us anymore. So to get to the point, I've decided our family needs to take a stronger hand in what goes

on out there.'

        He gestured to the burley fellow who had led them inside, 'This is my nephew Dominic, he's going to

be keeping an eye on what goes on out there for us. Basically he's going to be part of your family for a 

little bit, let's say 6 months. If he reports to me that everything is running well, that we don't have any 

more of this goddamn renegade, cowboy bullshit going on, then you guys can go back to running your

family however you see fit. Until then, think of him as your boss.'

            Dominic shot them a shit eating grin and Matteo and Steve got up to leave, 'Steve, wait up a few

minutes.' Tony said as he was about to leave, 'I wanna talk to you for a second.'

        Steve told Matteo to wait in the car for him. After he'd left and Dominic was retreated to somehwhere

in the back, Steve was sitting across from Tony, who poured him a glass of wine.

        'Steve, listen, believe it or not I got a lot of respect for you, for your family. Things were smooth 

when your brother Carmine was running things out there, and I respect that you stood up for your family

and didn't rat.'

        'And believe me if it weren't for the my bosses across the river and the fucking FBI up our ass I'd be

celebrating more than anyone that that rat fuck is dead. The point is we need guys like you, soldiers, guys

who don't fucking rat. But you gotta be smart about it, can't go running off all half-cocked. Matter of fact I

could see you running things out there in a couple years.'

       Steve furrowed his brow, 'Why are you telling me this?' He asked. Tony took another bit of his pasta,

a sip of wine. 'Because I need someone like you, the bosses do, a stand up guy, someone we can trust. 

Who's not gonna rat. My nephew, he's alright, not the brightest, but he's loyal. But let me tell you, my

bosses, they got a lot of respect for you, they think you could be a lot of help to us, they just go to know

they can trust you.'

        Steve nodded, a sly grin coming across his face, 'I think I know what your'e saying.' 'Now, obviously

Dom's still gonna be the guy, for now, but if you can prove to us that you can be loyal, I think we can find

a spot for you. Think it over on the ride back.'

           He's barely said a word to me since we got in the car, Steve thought. They were almost back to the

city and Matteo been driving in silence for most of the ride. He hadn't thought about it much at first, he

was probably just the prospect of having that stupid Ape looking over our shoulders for the next 6 months

but Matteo hadn't said anything about it.

        Matteo got off at the exit for Warner, Steve had parked in the lot at Chapman's. 'Don't worry about

this shit Matt, they'll lose interest in a couple months. Besides, I know this guy, we ain't got nothing to 

worry about from them.'

        Matteo turned onto the street Chapman's was on, 'Besides I heard recently, they don't even whack

anybody anymore!' He laughed. 'They say it creates too much attention. You imagine that! What the fuck

is the point of even being in this thing?'

        Matteo was dead silent as he pulled the car into Chapman's parking lot, rolled up next to Steve's car

and put it in park. 'What the hell is up with you, you haven't said anything that whole ride. Did I do 

something?' Steve asked as he stopped.

       'I talked to my Mom, and I spoke to my Dad the last time I saw him, you need to get the rest of your

stuff out of our house. You've been staying at your girlfriends house most of the time anyway. I need you

to clear it out by the end of the week.'

            'Ok.' Steve replied, unbuckling his seat belt and opening the door. 'You sure I didn't do anything to

piss you off?' He asked.

        'No. I'll talk to you later.' Matteo replied. Steve got out and closed the door. Well that's bullshit, he

thought as he walked over to his car, well actually Shannon's car. He'd given her a couple hundred bucks

if she'd let him borrow it for a couple days. That had been a hard sell. She had only reluctantly accepted not

calling the police about the robbery, she said the whole situation made her feel unsafe. That someone knew that he

was staying there and was just watching, waiting for another chance to strike.

        He walked back to the car and unlocked the door. He took his phone from his jacket pocket and 

dialed Shannon's number. What he'd wanted to tell her was that sure there was someone watching him and

that someone was living across the hall.

        'Hello.' She said as she answered. 'Hey baby, I'm just heading back home now, do you need anything

while I'm out?' He asked trying to put as much syrup into his voice as possible.

        'No, I'm good. Listen, Steve we need to talk.' She said, the words coming out hesitantly. Oh fuck, not

this again, he thought. 'Talk? What do you mean, we can't talk now? What's the problem.' He asked, his 

words taking on a harsher tilt.

    'Well, about a lot of things. You staying here, for one, I'm not supposed to have long term guests. If the

landlord found out I could be in serious shit. My house getting broken into, I still have no fucking TV, and

to be honest, I don't feel safe in that house anymore. You told me when we got together that you weren't as

involved in that life anymore, that even if you were you wouldn't bring it into our lives. Then this happens,

you're always gone for long periods, you come back you can't tell me where you were, what you were 

really doing. Just, this isn't what I signed up for and I'm not trying to be a mob wife.'

        Her words stung him hard, she'd been thinking about it alright, but she'd already made up her mind.

Telling him was just a courtesy. 

       Now that I have to leave Matteos, if I get kicked out of her house where the fuck am I gonna go? He

thought to himself. He choked down the deep rage he felt inside to manage a measured reply.

        'Can we talk about this when I get back?' He asked. 'Sure we can talk about it. It's probably not going

to make much a difference, but why not.'

        'Alright, thanks hon, I love you. Oh and I might be a little later getting back today, I'll talk to you

later.'

    'Bye.' She replied. He put the phone back in his pocket and got out of the car, I need a drink, he thought,

and closed the door and headed towards Chapman's bar. 

       I need a few drinks to think, he thought, I know I can come up with something. He walked into the

dimly lit interior of the bar and ordered a 22oz beer. It's got to be her, the room mate, it's so obvious.

            It's safe because no one knows about it, Autumn thought as she sat in the darkened theater

watching The Town. She'd decided to go to a movie to get her mind off the situation she was in, and 

wondered if she'd made the best choice of movie.

           After she'd returned from her. night of debauchery with Steve at the House of Venus, she'd still

been drunk from before so she'd gone to her room and passed out until it was dark. She'd heard Steve and

Shannon yelling about the break-in from her room, he'd asked Autumn if she had remembered to close 

the door when they were leaving the night before, and Autumn had sworn she had. She knew Steve had 

been way too drunk that night to remember either way. She also knew Steve wouldn't suspect her of doing

something like deliberately, not right away.

        She'd told her boyfriend Dan, not to have his guys hurt Shannon or destroy anything in the apartment,

she lived there too after all. She knew most of anything of value, would be in the room Steve shared with

Shannon. Autumn and Shannon didn't talk often, but they talked enough that Autumn knew Steve was 

some kind of drug dealer, possibly connected. She also mentioned something about him doing time in

prison. 

       Finally she looked him up and found out, Steve Berardi, 20 years in prison for hijacking, made

member in the Berardi Family and brother of former boss Carmine Berardi, and Sal Berardi. The Berardi's

numbers had declined drastically since the 90's and 2000's with current estimates about 10 made members

and possibly 20 associates.

        Autumn had dug deeper, curious about how the mob operated these days.  After a little internet 

research she found the answer was, unsurprisingly, not very good. With the RICO statue passed in 1970,

which enabled the government to go after the Mafia as an organization, more and more high level made

guys were willing to flip when faced with the stiff sentences RICO convictions ensured. 

        She even read that they had a hard time going after guys that owed them money because there was a

good chance they'd run to the cops. These weren't you're fathers Goodfellas, no, they were something

much more diluted. 

        Autumn played the quiet dormouse to Shannon and Steve but in reality she listened in to their 

conversations as much as she could, mainly to Steve. He fascinated her, here was a real life gangster,

a dinosaur of the golden age.

        Her boyfriend, Dan, had been hesitant about the plan when she heard Steve was part of the Mafia. 

Said it might complicate his dealing with other factions in town, might have blowback. That was when 

she'd gone into her rap about how the Mafia wasn't what is used to be, how, sometimes they can't even

collect money owed to them because they were worried about the person going to the police. 

        She'd also mentioned how she'd overheard Steve tell Shannon one time that if they ever did get

robbed she had to never call the police, no matter what happened. He had a record, he'd said, he'd done

time, and ever since he got out ten years ago the fucking cops had been itching to bust him for something.

She also knew that Dan ran when a pretty hard group of guys himself, he was connected to a group of 

Irish-American gangsters in Eastern Mass, and could handle any blowback that might arise from ripping

off Steve.

        But could I? She thought, the movie was almost over and she checked her phone. 2 missed calls, 1

new message, all from Shannon. 'Steve is still really upset about what happened, he wants to talk to you. 

Call me back.'

            Shit, Autumn thought, alright, got to tell her something. The credits had started and she got up and

started out of the theater.  A chill wind struck her as she walked outside, and the walk to her  car 

parked in the middle of the mall parking lot seemed long indeed. What if Steve was waiting in the 

backseat with a pistol, making the trek up to ask her his questions in person?

        After she unlocked her car, a Toyota corolla, she turned on the interior lights and made sure that 

wasn't the case. After the robbery she'd decided to go up to her parents for a few days, and Dan had agreed

to drive her up. Before he dropped her off he grabbed the duffel with the money from her trunk and asked

her if she could take it. He'd already paid Chad and Roy, some of the money but they thought it should be

spilt equally so he'd told them he'd give to to them in installments. In reality he didn't believe in an equal 

split with them at all, and that if he had they'd keep bothering him. If she had, they didn't know her or 

where she lived so it would be safe.

       As she started the car, she dialed Shannon's number. 'Hello.' Shannon said as she answered. 'Hey, 

sorry I haven't been around I just wanted to get up to go see my parents haven't seen them in months.'

Autumn explained.

    Shannon's reply was calm even, 'No, that's fine, it's just Steve, you know how he is. He just wants to 

talk to you. He's been getting really annoying about it, going off to me, I told him obviously you had 

nothing to do with it, but I think if you just sat down and explained to him in person he would calm down

about it.'

        Explain in person,  Autumn. contemplated for a moment, lying straight to the face of a man she knew

was suspected in at least 10 gangland homicides, tried and acquitted for two. 'Yeah, that sounds good, I

was planning on coming back tomorrow anyway, you think he'll be around then?'

        Shannon sighed, 'Oh yeah, he's always around now. I'm not really sure where the two of us are at but

I told him he could keep staying here, for now.' She laughed nervously. 'You know how he gets sometimes,

I think if you two just talked we could clear this whole thing up.' She sounded strange to Autumn, almost

like she was talking from behind a gun, you're being paranoid, she told herself.

        'Yeah, no worries, I understand. I'd be upset too if I was him.' Shit, that didn't come out right!, she

thought. 'Anyway, I'm just getting back in the car heading back to my parents, I should be back home 

around 5.

             'Alright, well I'll see you tomorrow. Bye.' 'Bye.' Autumn replied and hung up. She sat in the parking 

lot for a moment with the engine running and the radio on low. She wished she could just take the bag 

with the money and bring the fucking thing back to him. She had watched enough crime movies to know

bad things happen to people who steal bad peoples money. She hadn't even expected anything like that to

be there when she'd called Dan to tell him they were heading out for a few hours, and that anything Steve

had would be in Shannon's room. 

    Well, she thought as she pulled out of the lot, I have a bad person on my side too.

        The memory came back to Eugene as he examined the photographs of the two men spread out on the

table before him. Jamal coming into the living room of the small apartment with a backpack with the 

'stuff,' he was going to sell the Russians, coke he believed it was supposed to be, before pulling a .38 out

of said backpack and shooting both men in the head. 

        The shots left his ears ringing in the enclosed space, not to mention the blood and splatter on the

walls. He'd said as much to Jamal, losing his temper, which he seldom did. Telling him he thought he was

going to take them outside, now who the hell is going to clean all this up? They'd called a 'Cleaner', 

someone Jamal knew, and for a hefty fee he helped dispose of the bodies and the scene of the crime at the

apartment. 

        He took out his glasses and made a show of thinking deeply as he tried to remember who they were.

'Oh yeah,  Russians, yeah I remember meeting them.' The detective who'd shown him the photos looked 

surprised. She had dark hair and brown eyes, and seemed unmoved by Eugene's performance.

        'According to our informant, the man in that picture, Anatoly Kerimov, his bodyguard, both went

to your apartment to buy drugs that night. Both men never came back and haven't been seen from since.

Our informant believes you lured the two men to your apartment and they were murdered either by you or

your associate Jamal Henderson, whom we've been unable to track down.'

            Motherfucker, Eugene thought, clenching his teeth. 'Well I don't know nothing about all of that.

But I did have business with those Russians that night. Wasn't drugs though. He was interesting in buying

a couple items from my collection.'

    The detective raised an eyebrow, 'What collection?' She asked. 'Well, I collect World War 2 

memorabilila, medals, bayonets, a firearm or 2, whatever I can get my hands on, I go to swap meets,

conventions, and in the past few years buying and sometimes selling some of the stuff I get on the 

internet.' 

    He took his phone out of his pocket and opened it up. He put on his glasses again to look at the screen

for a few minutes before touching a few buttons on it and passing it to the detective. 'This was the ad he 

was responding to.'

     'But the call from Kerimov's cell phone to yours came a little after 9:00 at night, that seems like a 

strange time for someone to call about something like that.'

     Eugene shrugged, 'I keep odd hours, I'm always up in the night. They came over about 10 minutes after

that, we talked, I showed him the items but there was a disagreement on the price so he didn't end up 

getting anything. Probably ended up leaving my apartment around oh I'd say 9:45.'

       The Detective smiled a strange smile, 'And that's the last you saw of him?' She asked. 'Yes, M'am',

Eugene replied, knowing she'd phrased it that way intentionally.

    'Well, Mr. Washington you've been very helpful and if we have any further questions we'll be in touch.'.

         Luis looked thoughtful as he considered all that Eugene had just told him. They were at the Deerfield

Truckstop diner in a corner booth, it was 1AM on a Friday night and the other half of the diner was filled with

rowdy college kids, no one paid much mind to them. Eugene had debated with himself what to do after

leaving the interrogation with the detective. He worried if he didn't tell Luis about it then it would get back

to him somehow anyway, and then he might get the wrong idea, that he'd been talking to the cops but 

hadn't told him about it. And that was a good way to end up in a whole, he'd thought.

        'I'm glad you came to me with this, Eugene, and in a timely manner. If I had found out after the fact

that an associate of mine had talked to the police without telling me, we might not even be having this 

conversation now.' He took a sip of his coffee.

    So casual about it, Eugene thought, this corporate speaking asshole. 'Nevertheless it is unfortunate that

we have them snooping around about this guy, but it doesn't seem like they have much hard evidence, 

because it sounds like, from what the detective was implying, if they had it you and you're associate would

be in jail right now.'

        Eugene nodded, 'Yeah. But it's also, my associate Jamal, he's been kind of flaky lately. I had to take

him off his drops because he was so unreliable. Wouldn't show up on time to meet people,  nobody could

get in touch with him for days. Truth is I think it got worse with this piece of work I had him do for Steve.'

    'I see.' Luis said. 

    'Don't get me wrong I don't want anything to happen to him, I've known that boy since was yay high,'

He gestured with his hand. 'I just worry about him, that's all. I wish I hadn't gotten involved in Steve's war

with those guys in the first place.'

       Luis took out a business card from his wallet and slid it across to table to Eugene. 'Don't worry too 

much about what you already said. Next time that detective calls you, call this number we have these guys

on retainer, one of the top firms in the country and free of charge to you. All we ask if for your silence.

Ask any lawyer you have absolutely nothing to gain from talking to the police. Think about it, all these 

big RICO cases, as unrealistic as it might be, but if every single one of those guys kept their mouths shut,

the government would have a much harder time proving it's case.'

        'Let me ask you something else.' Luis said after a pause. 'Is there anything for the police to find? Any

loose ends?'

    'No we actually took care of it pretty good. Like I said, all they know now is that the Russian came to

my house and was never seen again.'

        Luis wrote something down in his notebook, he'd been writing little notes earlier when Eugene was

recounting what he'd told the detective.

    'What about his car? Did you get rid of it? Is it going to turn up somewhere?' He asked. 'Nope,' Eugene

replied. 'I had a couple of my guys drive it over to my cousin's, he owns a scrapyard.'

        Luis nodded. 'Very good. Let me make some calls, find out exactly what they have on this. Figure out

who this 'informant,' the detective was talking about actually is. In the meantime, if they call you again, 

ask you for a follow up session, tell them you have to speak to your attorney.'

        Mike Rizzo poured himself a strong cup of coffee from the pot in his kitchen, and thought over the

transaction he was about to conduct. He poured some cream and spooned a couple sugars into it stirring

the mixture into a strong, robust brew.

        It had been just past midnight, where he'd been partying at the House of Venus once again, this time

they were celebrating the news they'd heard that evening, that New York had decided Matteo was going to

be the acting boss.

        Most of the made guys had been there, with Steve being the one exception. Mike wasn't surprised. He

knew Steve would likely be sore, not because they hadn't made him the boss, but that he hadn't been 

promoted at all. Truthfully, part of Mike wondered why they had New York all of a sudden deciding who

the boss would be out here, but he wasn't surprised. The truth was their family was weak, especially 

compared to the old days, you couldn't depend on anyone except yourself. 

        He'd been on his way out, feeling perfectly buzzed from the beers he'd drank, looking forward to 

going home, crawling into his warm bed and his warm wife, and passing the fuck out. Of course as soon

as these thoughts came into his head as he sat down in his car, his phone had buzzed. 

    The voice on the other end was slurred, but it it also sounded kind of high, and Mike hadn't known who

it was before the man had explained he was Jamal, Eugene's friend. Then it clicked. Jamal was an 

occasional customer of Mikes, every couple of months usually. Mike liked him because he always bought

his coke in bulk, usually an ounce.  Once he'd explained to Mike that he sold this stuff to a whole different

set of customers, outside of the city.

        On the phone Jamal had said he needed the usual, could he meet him right away? This alone had 

given Mike pause, considering the hour, so he'd told Jamal he could do it, but he'd have to go home, get

the stuff ready, and he'd call him when he was all set.

      Driving home, he'd had the fleeting notion that maybe this delay tactic would work. Maybe he'd call 

him back and he wouldn't pick up, maybe he'd just forget about it. However, Mike hadn't thought this to

be likely as he'd gone home, gone into the kitchen to brew some coffee to sober him up a little bit, 

and weighed out the ounce of coke. 

        Now, sitting at his kitchen table, sipping his strong coffee, he pondered his options. He could still call

it off if he had to, or even turn off his phone and crawl into bed like he'd planned. No good, he thought, 

I'm already all keyed up, plus I need the money.

       Could call for back-up, see if I can get someone to just come along for the ride and be there in the 

backseat while the thing goes down. But most of the people that he'd call were with him at the House of

Venus when he left, and most were likely still over there and highly intoxicated. 

        Wait a minute, he thought, Steve! He was always up late and he hadn't been at the club with the 

others. He could be an asshole but he was the kind of guy who'd always have your back in these situations.

Was it a situation? He pondered. Not yet, but it seemed far less likely Jamal would try anything with Steve

in the backseat.

        He looked at the clock above the fridge, quarter to 1, as he picked up his cell and dialed Steve's 

number. He was looking at his .22 pistol on the table as the number rang, 'What's cooking my man?' 

Steve answered, sounding properly buzzed. 

       'Hey Steve, I got a bit of a situation. I'm about to go meet this guy, someone I know, he's not a cop

but I don't know, something feels off. It's Eugene's guy, Jamal. He's never been a problem for me before,

but this time, I don't know.'

        'Say no more.' Steve replied. 'I got no problem with that. The only thing is I'm up at Shannon's house

right now, our young king kicked me out of his castle. I was hoping to be here when he roommate gets

back tomorrow to talk to her, but if you can pick me up and drop me off I'm your man.'

        Shit, Mike thought, 45 minutes to go up there, then meet this guy, and then the same amount of time

just getting him back, for something that was probably just in his head anyway?

        'Nah, it's fine Steve. I should be ok. Thanks anyway thought man, I appreciate it.' 

'Anytime my brother.' Steve replied. 'Let me know how it all goes.' He hung up. Alright, Mike thought,

looking at his inventory on the table, the paper bag with the coke in it, the .22, the phone, tools of the 

trade, he thought.

    He picked up his phone, Let's call this asshole up. Later, he'd regret not taking the extra time to go

pick him up.

        Jamal took a long pull from his 40 of Old English, finishing what was left in it. Before he left to go

'Buy' this bag of coke from Mike he'd smoke a bowl of meth to keep him going for the night. He had a lot

of ground to cover. He didn't feel very good about this one, he liked Mike, and Mike was also connected,

but the truth was, Mike was just about the only dealer in town who would sell to him, he'd burned so many 

people who'd fronted him. 

    Ever since the night a month earlier that he'd shot the two Russians in the face in his cousin's apartment,

Jamal couldn't get the image out of his head. It was the only thing he could think about when he was 

awake and in his dreams every night. Because sleep brought such horrible images, he'd started using the

substances he was supposed to be selling, crack first, then meth, staying awake for days. 

    He started becoming unreliable, coming up short with the money for the drugs Eugene fronted him each

week, fronting large amounts of the stuff he was fronted himself to individuals who he probably knew 

would not be good for it. Finally he stopped selling the drugs altogether, ignoring his customers calls and

staying inside with apartment with the blinds drawn, drinking, playing video games, and, increasingly

smoking crack. It never made the images in his head go away, but it numbed them for him.

       Finally, Eugene had told him if he wouldn't sell them, to give them back, and ended up sending one

of the Cartel goons, Raul over to pick up the drugs for him. Got to be careful tonight, Jamal thought as he

looked at the stack on the coffee table in front of him, half real bills, have photocopies he'd made of 100 

dollar bills, they were underneath about 400 dollars of real 20's. The old bait and switch. He knew Mike

would want to count to make sure the money was there before giving him the bag, that was how he always

was, and as he was counting Jamal would pull out his Glock and tell him to hand it over. 

        Consider it a downpayment and I'll give you an IOU, he thought. He'd been up over 3 days, drinking,

smoking meth, breaking into cars to see what he could find. Well, he didn't actually break in, he just

checked each one to see which ones were unlocked. 

    Sure, Mike was tough, but he wouldn't try anything with a gun in his face. He really didn't want to have 

to kill anyone again, to have more of those images in his head. After he'd taken back the drugs Jamal 

couldn't sell Eugene had told him to take a break for a little bit, get his head together. In the meantime he'd have

someone else take over for him, for the time being. 

        Jamal picked up the stack of real bills with the fake, photocopied bills that he'd cut to the same 

lengths as the other ones. He was hoping, after he'd pulled the gun and gotten Mike to surrender the bag of

coke that he could recover most of the bills as well, he was going to need them. After what he was about

to do he had no intention of sticking around in the city. He'd made a deal with his friend Leon, whom he'd

done time with, to give him a ride to a rest stop in New Jersey, from there his cousin from Baltimore had

told him he'd pick him up.

        Fine by me, Jamal thought as he took a piece of crystal from the bag on the table and packed it into 

his bowl. There's nothing for me here anyway, he thought as he put the bowl to his lips and lit it up with 

his butane lighter. About a week he'd committed the murders, when it was clear the images in his head and

the memory wasn't going to go away, he'd told Eugene about it. How he'd killed people before, sure, but

not like that, looking them right in the face and shooting them dead. How the grim scene kept replaying in

his head on a loop. How he couldn't sleep, couldn't eat much, had a hard time doing much of anything 

because of it.

    Eugene had listened patiently, nodding and looking concerned as Jamal had laid it all out for him. He'd

paused for a few minutes before responding, 'I understand, I feel you.' He'd said. 'Don't forget I was a 

soldier once too,  sometimes you have to do things, you see things, that just make you want to die. I still

see the faces of the men I've killed at night too, most nights I can barely sleep through my nightmares are

so bad sometimes. But it gets better, you just got to give it time. Channel your energy into something else,

get a hobby.'

    After that, Jamal had been at a loss. Eugene obviously didn't really give a shit, he was basically telling

him to 'Man up,' buck it up buddy. He'd thought about discussing it with his boys but he was worried, A)

They'd think he was going soft and B) that they'd turn right around and tell Eugene. He thought about 

seeing a shrink but he was worried his friends would find out and really start to think something is wrong.

Plus, he knew he couldn't actually be 100 percent honest with such a person. If he'd said something about

a murder or someone potentially getting heard, they'd be legally bound to go to the authorities. 

     So instead, in the month he'd leaned into the two things that usually numbed him to things, alcohol and

weed, except weed wasn't strong enough this time, not for this. He took another hit of the meth, wondering

randomly, if this whole thing was really such a good idea. Even though his brain was wide awake, his

heart beating rapidly, sweating profusely, he could feel deep in his body that he needed to rest. 

        He clicked the butane torch and took another big hit, just a little further to go. Just this one thing, he'd

come back here after real quick, grab the few items he could fit into his backpack, and be on his way. Leon

would come through, he was solid. He'd use his cousins connections to sell the coke in Baltimore, then, he

figured maybe he'd go West, start a new life, away from all these drugs and death.

      A late night talk show played silently on the TV, as Jamal clicked the butane and took another hit of 

meth, as he inhaled he could feel his phone vibrate in his pocket. He put down the pipe and took it out, 1

missed call. 

        Fuck, Jamal thought, he was all keyed up for it now, his earlier reluctance leaving him as he exhaled

the toxic smoke from the pipe. He called the number back. 

        Mike answered after a couple of rings, 'What's up man.' He said. 'Are you sure you still want to do 

this tonight? I could hit you up in the morning.'

    I'll be long gone by then, Jamal thought, 'Nah, man tonights good for me.' He replied. 'Ok so where do

you want to meet? What car are you driving?' Mike asked.

        'Meet me at that old dead shopping center, where the Kmart used to be. Just give me like 15 minutes

because I'm on my bike.' 

        'Alright, ill see you in a half hour, just make sure you have the money ready, I want to get this over

with as quickly as possible, there's crackheads that hang out over there sometimes.' He hung up.

        Jamal put a rubber band over the wad of real/fake bills and shoved the wad deep into his pocket. He 

picked up the Glock from the table and put it in his belt. As he stood up to get ready he took a look around

his apartment, empty bottles of old English and old take out containers littered the coffee table and various

spots in the living room. 

    Just a little more crime, he thought, then I can do something else, life a different life.

            I don't like this one bit, Mike thought as he sit with his engine running in the middle of the old K-

Mart parking lot. He had the ounce of coke in his jacket pocket and the .22 in the space between the seats.

He could remember coming here when he was a kid, but now the lot and the area around it was a shadow

of its former self, dark, trash everywhere, and he could see in the shadows near the old store a small group

of people huddled together. 

        No here for their AA meeting, I bet, Mike thought. In spite of the coffee he was still feeling a little

groggy from the beer and the liquor at the House of Venus, there was still some part of his mind, shouting

at him, asking him what he was even doing here. 

    Back when he was a teenager, getting stoned, raising hell, discovering various drugs and schemes, one 

of his friend had made an interesting observation. That if you explained to an alien, someone totally 

seunfamiliar with the ways of Earth, the various complicated schemes, money spent, time spent, that they

went through just to obtain these dried up plants that alter your state of mind, they'd really find it quite

bizarre.

    He was thinking about this now as he waited for Jamal. He's on a bike? What kind of crackhead shit is

that? It was almost 2 in the morning. He was definitely driving the last time, because they'd met at the

McDonalds parking lot, he remembered because he'd gotten into his car, it had been nice and easy Jamal

had had the money ready.

    When had that been? At least a couple months ago he was sure. The group of homeless people standing

near the entrance of the old K Mart broke up. They were about 30 feet away and now it looked like one of

them was walking toward his car, where is this guy? Mike thought, fingering the cold steel of the pistol.

Just then he heard a knock on his passenger side window, he quickly put the pistol in his jacket on the 

opposite side from where he had the bag of coke.

       He unlocked the doors and Jamal came in and sat down. He looked tired, yet very awake, and he

smelled as if he hadn't showered in a couple days, at least. 'What's up man.' Mike said as he sat down in 

the passenger seat.

    'Not much man.' Jamal replied his eyes darting around suspiciously. Something's not right here, Mike 

thought. 'You got the money? I wanna get home man.' 

        'Yeah, sure no problem.' Jamal replied. 'You got the bag?'

'You get the bag when I see the money, come on man, it's late.' 'Yeah, sure no problem,' Jamal replied, 

reaching into his pocket for the wad of half real/ half fake bills, he took it out, undid the rubber band and

handed it to Mike, who started counting it while the paper bag with the coke remained in his jacket pocket.

       Jamal had sold enough drugs and counted enough money to have a good idea how long it would take

Mike to reach the fake ones and when he could see that he was almost at that point he pulled the Glock 

from his sweatshirt and cocked it, aiming at Mike's chest.

    'Just give me the bag man.' He said, as calm as he could manage with the meth coursing through his

system. 'No one has to get hurt.' 

    Mike, still shocked, got down to the fake money and laughed, of fucking course that's what this is. 'Oh,

fuck you. You're really going to do this to me. Do you know who the fuck I'm with you fucking

cocksucker!' He yelled.

    'Just give me the fucking bag, no one has to get hurt.' Jamal replied. 'Someone's gonna get hurt alright.'

Mike said reaching for his .22 in his left jacket pocket, Jamal fired two shots from the Glock without 

thinking, the report from the pistol defeating in the confines of the car.

    In the confusion he reached into Mike's jacket and grabbed the paper bag with the coke, and as many of

the bills as he could grab, although in the dark he couldn't tell which ones were real or not. 

    That rat fucking bastard, Mike thought, as the blood poured from his wounds. The car was filled with

gun smoke and his ears were still ringing from the sound of the gunshots. How the fuck did this happen? 

He thought, in shock. He wasn't sure why he'd resisted, why he hadn't just gave him the bag. One was the

money, that he knew he'd be losing, but another was pride. Who the fuck robs him? People didn't fuck him

he fucked other people, except tonight the roles were reversed he supposed.

    He reached into his pants pocket, and dialed, what seemed to be the most logical person to call at the

moment, Steve. He groaned as he extracted the cell phone, feeling the life pour out of him. 

   As it rang on and on he started to wonder if he had gone to sleep when he heard, 'St. Micheal? How did

it go with our friend there?' Steve answered jovially.

    'Fucking asshole shot me! I go to meet up with him, he gave me this fucked up fake money or some

bullshit and he fucking shot me!' Mike explained.

    'Why the fuck are you calling me then? You gotta get to a fucking hospital!' Steve exclaimed. 'I know, I

just wanted you to know. I'm gonna go get some help now,' Mike said, and hung up.

        Jamal was almost home when it occurred to him that Mike could very well die out there. He was 

driving up it would probably be hard for him to make to a hospital the way he was. He came up to the

corner of his street, to a sign that read, 'Hamza's Market.' In front of the corner store was a payphone, he

rolled his bike up to the corner, put down the kickstand and called 911 from the payphone.

        '911 what is your emergency?' The dispatcher said. 'It's not me, my friend was just sitting in this car

and this guy just came up in his car, got out and shot him. couple times. He's bleeding pretty bad.'

    'Where is the location.' 'He's in the old K-mart lot on route 5, he's in his car a red '98 Honda accord.' 

He hung up. 

   There, now at least he should be ok, Jamal thought. As he got back on his bike and pedaled down toward

his street he heard sirens in the distance, wonder if one of the bums called the cops, he thought as he 

walked his bike into the hallway of his building.

        He leaned it against a wall past the row of mailboxes and headed upstairs. As he came up to his floor

he could tell that Eugene's light was on and he could hear music coming from his apartment. He pondered

for a mad second knocking on his door and telling him everything that had just happened, but thought 

better of it continuing down the hall to his place, he doesn't give a fuck about me anymore. 

    Just got to make a couple of calls and I can put this whole life behind me, Jamal thought as he reached 

the door to his apartment.

        Man, that was intense, Eugene thought as he took a sip of his coffee. He was sitting out on his porch,

having his coffee, watching the world go by, trying to shake off the morning cobwebs and the weird 

feeling he'd gotten from the dream he'd just had. 

        He'd gotten home late from his meeting with Luis, a little after 2:30, and, at first it didn't seem like 

sleep was going to come. The message he'd gotten on his voicemail for his landline hadn't helped. Hamza,

the owner of the small market who Eugene had convinced to give Jamal a job, that called saying that he'd

finally had enough, Jamal had no called no showed for the 4th time that week and he was letting him go.

There was simply nothing else he could do.

    This had caused him to think about Jamal even more, and the more he thought about him the more he 

didn't like it. He hadn't been himself since he killed those Russians. Even though he'd been angry that 

Jamal had been unreliable, and had stopped supplying him with product as a result, the truth was he was

more concerned than anything.  He just didn't know what to say, how to talk to him about it. He had 

known and known of plenty of soldiers and veterans who'd reacted the same as Jamal after having taken

a life. They never talked about it themselves but he'd hear from their friends and family how they 'Just 

weren't the same.'

       He'd found a movie, some DVD of some old World War 2 flick and tried to just watch something to

get himself tired and pass out, but it wouldn't take. He kept thinking about those broken soldiers he'd 

known, how so many of them had alcoholics, drug addicts, and how their addictions had led them to 

petty crimes.

        He'd even thought about taking a walk down the hall and knocking on Jamals door, see how he was

doing. He'd known somehow that it wouldn't do any good. That he'd lost him already. It was hard. No one

had ever been there for him, so he didn't know how. 

      The movie was over and it had been almost 5 when he'd finally given in and taken a trazodone to seal

the deal so he could get some sleep.

        He was back in Vietnam, trudging through the jungle with all his gear. Except he was the age he was

now, and the trudging was far more difficult. Judge was there with him, and Marcus, but he couldn't 

remember if Marcus was old as well. Their objective was a VC camp in the middle of the jungle where

they were to liberate a few prisoners, scorched earth, take no prisoners deal. 

    However, as is the often the case with dreams, reality was a little distorted. The camp where the 

prisoners were being held was across this wide raging river, that was rising higher by the minute. For

whoever reason it was unthinkable to cancel the mission on such grounds so they bushwhacked their way

through the jungle to the river. 

    As Eugene, Marcus and Judge stood on the banks of the river, the current raging and the water coming 

up slowly, he heard a voice crying for help. It was coming from a little island in the middle of the river

was was slowly getting submerged with water. It was Jamal, he was in an army uniform too, climbing up a

tree as the waters rose.

    At the point, Marcus and Judge were gone and Eugene noticed a long spool of rope neatly coiled near

the banks of the river where he was standing. It was on a little dock tethered to a spike set deep into the 

ground. As Eugene walked over the could see the rope was long, surely long enough to reach the little

island Jamal was on only about 20 feet away it looked like.

        As he uncoiled the rope it kept getting longer and longer. However when he went to throw it across to

Jamal on the island it kept falling short. The water was rising, submerging most the land on the island, at

the same time, in the midst of the dream he wondered why it wasn't rising on his bank, and Jamal had 

climbed up a tree, he kept throwing the rope to him, it kept falling short, and the last thing he remembered

before he woke up was Jamal and the island consumed by the water.

       

        I got to try to talk to him, Eugene thought as he got up from his chair on the porch and headed back

into the kitchen. I have to do something, before he goes off and does something stupid. He drank the rest

of his coffee and put the cup in the sink. He felt stupid for not seeing it earlier. He'd known Jamal had 

been fucked up from shooting the two Russians (he'd felt fucked up from having witnessed it) but he 

thought he'd get over it. 

   I mean, I can just drop by, say hello, Eugene thought as he shuffled over to the couch in the living room

to grab a blunt he'd rolled for himself earlier. He'd seen Jamal in passing in the hallways a couple of times

but they hadn't actually spoken all week.

    He put the blunt in the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt but just as he put his hand on the doorknob he heard

his cordless phone from the kitchen. As he turned around to walk back into the kitchen to get it, he 

wondered who it was. He didn't use that line very much, some of his older friends called him on it, and

he used it to talk to his mother who still lived in Georgia.

    He checked the caller ID as he picked it up, Maryland, huh, he thought. 'Hello.' Eugene said as he

picked up. 

    'Hey.' The voice on the other end answered,  it sounded slightly slurred and manic at the same time.

'I'm just calling to let you know you don't have to worry about me anymore. About whether I'm going to

do something crazy, or snitch you out to the police. Because I'm done with the life, I'm done with all of

it, I'm out forever.'

       It was Jamal, what the hell has he done now. 'You need help, Jamal, there's no shame in it. I can help

you find someone to talk to, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you before.' He sat back down on the couch, 

extracted the blunt the blunt and the lighter from his shirt pocket and lit it. 'Besides, this life, this isn't

something you can just up and walk away from. Look, man, I care about you I've know you since you 

were little.'

        'Bullshit!, you just liked having someone do your dirty work for you, beat up people that owe you

money, sell your drugs, kill people that get in the way. '

        This motherfucker really talking about this shit on the phone, Eugene thought, 'Come on man, you

know it's not like that. Why don't you come back, we'll talk this over, I'll get you back into the game.'

He said, trying his best to sound calm.        

    Jamal was silent for a moment, as if considering. 'Nah, man, that ship has sailed. You had your chance.

I'm never coming back to that piece of shit town again.'

    Eugene took another puff on the blunt. 'You do realize, me I wouldn't have a problem cutting you loose,

but the people we're involved with, they're not the kind of people you just walk away from.' He let that

sink in for him for a second.

        'Are you threatening me old man?' Jamal asked, that edge in his voice. 'Nope, son, I'm just explaining

to you the facts, if you weren't all high or drunk or whatever you're on right now you'd understand what

I'm trying to say.' Eugene said.

    'Well I guess that's a risk I'm going to take. You're the big man out there now, the Frank Lucas, maybe 

you can get them off my case. It doesn't matter to me, I'm done with the life and I'm done with you.' He

hung up.

        He put the cordless phone down on the coffee table, and put the blunt out on the ashtray. He didn't

like to smoke a whole one by himself because it made him paranoid. Usually 3-4 hits put him on a nice

even keel.

        He watched the wafts of smoke drifting through the beams of midday sun coming through the 

windows of his apartment. It didn't make any sense, even now, even considering how off Jamal had been

acting in the past month. He'd always thought of him as tough, resilient. He'd gotten busted for dealing

when he was 20, hadn't snitched on anyone, and got a couple years in prison for it. He'd killed more than

a few of his own crew who'd been talking to the police or who he'd thought was talking to the police, and

after he hadn't seemed effected by it at all.

    Maybe it was just weighing on him, little by little. Like the one's he'd known from Vietnam, the tough

guys who never talked about the war, who didn't seem to be bothered by it at all, then one day they just

deciding to wrap a noose around their necks or to swallow a bullet from a revolver. 

    He got up from the couch, still hazy from the pot and headed over to the kitchen to replace the cordless

on the receiver. As he was about to put it down a thought came into his head, two words- self preservation.

He had to distance himself from Jamal, in case Jamal did something crazy or had already done so. They 

had such little contact in the past few weeks that anything was possible, he dialed the number he had for

Luis, 'Hello.' Luis said, picking up after the first ring.

    'Hey, I need to meet up again. We might have a problem.'

        Be cool, big guy, Steve told himself extracted the last plate from the dishwasher and put it in the 

cupboard. Autumn, Shannon's roommate, was supposed to be back from her parents soon and he needed

to act like nothing was wrong when she returned. 'Just need to ask her a few questions, he'd told Shannon,

clear some stuff up.'

    He'd told her he'd been in prison, he'd even alluded to her that he had Mafia connections, of course he'd

never used the word Mafia. What Mafia? There is no Mafia. But the truth was she didn't know half of the

things he'd done or what he was capable of.  He'd hidden these things from her as best he could, but she'd

seen little snippets of it, where he'd lost his temper here and there, so she'd made him promise, ok, he 

could talk to her, she just didn't want her to get hurt.

    He'd promised, of course, when he'd made it the day before he'd meant it. He suspected her then but he

hadn't been entirely sure. He already been on edge that morning thinking about Mike getting shot, 

wondering how bad it was, if he'd pull through. After he'd called Mike's wife to figure out what hospital he

was in, how he was doing, he'd made a late lunch for the two of them of French toast, bacon and 

scrambled eggs. 

      They'd been finishing up their lunch when Shannon said something that caught his attention. He'd been

somewhat annoyed because she'd told him she was calling out at work again this week (third time in a 

row), he was hoping to drop her off and get to use the car for a few hours. He'd only been half listening

as she was explaining the reasons why, how she was still freaked out about the break-in, what is someone

was watching her house now waiting for another opportunity. 

    'The weirdest thing about it, though, is that I slept through the whole thing. They went right into our

room, took what they wanted, but didn't disturb me at all, is that strange?' she'd asked. That was when it

smacked him in the face and he felt his blood boil and his temperature start to rise.

        He'd told her he needed to take a walk as the revelation set in and the rage started to build in his

mind. Of course it had been her who'd left the door open that night, who'd led the thieves to their place.

Shannon and Autumn weren't super close, but they were close enough, and she wouldn't have wanted any

harm to come to her. 

      After he'd taken his walk, he'd done a few sets with his 20 pound dumbbells to clear his head and try to

calm his anger. He'd taken anger management and some meditation classes in prison, deep breathing

techniques, counting to ten, little tricks to bring down the fire inside. You had to, in prison, people would

try and test you and you couldn't fight anyone, eventually there'd be someone bigger, stronger, faster than

you.

        After his weights he'd borrowed Shannon's car and bought groceries for the house, and cooked up a

homemade Alfredo sauce with, sausage, peppers, zucchini garlic bread and salad. He liked cooking to get

his mind of things to clear his head. They'd had a little bit of red wine with dinner but Steve had only had 

a couple glasses himself, he needed his head clear for what he had to do next.

    Steve closed the dishwasher and headed back into the living room where Shannon was watching TV. It

wasn't as nice as the ones the fiends who broken in had taken, but it was decent. He kissed her on the

mouth before sitting down next to her on the couch.

    'So it's already 7:30 now, have you heard anything yet from Autumn? I thought she was going to be

back at 5.'

        'Yeah, that's what she said, but you know her, 'Time is an illusion,' she's one of those types of people.

Hey what's with all the dinner, the cleaning, being so nice? Did you get a brain transplant or something? 

Or are you planning something?' Shannon asked, her eyes still focused on her show.

    'What I can't make a nice dinner for my girl?' He said mockingly, the truth was he did find the question

somewhat annoying, but he kept it down. The 2 Xanax he had taken helped. 

    'And you're just going to talk to her right? You're not gonna 'Muscle' her or anything? Leave a horses 

head in her bed?' She grinned.

    Steve shook his head, 'Nothing like that, my dear. We're just going to take a little drive.' He replied. The

lie came out from his lips so easily that it sounded sincere. 'We'll be back before you know it just a quick

trip around the block.' He smiled his, dealing with authority smile.

    A quick drive to where my goddamn bag of cash is. I don't give a fuck if it's in New York, or Arizona,

this bitch is going to take me to it.

        Autumn brought her red corolla into the spot next to Shannon's car, put the car in park and killed the

ignition. She wished then, improbably, that she had her own entrance, a tunnel maybe, that led to a latter

that she could just climb up and a trapdoor would open to her room where she could just lock the door.

    The light was on in the living room and she thought she saw a shadow move in front of the blinds, he

knows I'm here she thought. 

    Shannon must've called out from work again, she thought as he grabbed her bag from the passenger 

seat. The clock on her dashboard had read a few minutes past 9 when she pulled in and Shannon usually

worked 3-10.

        That's good right? She thought as she put the strap of her bag over her shoulder and exited her 

vehicle slowly. She'd gone to Warner first to visit her boyfriend, Dan, mainly to tell him that she was

going to be talking to Steve that afternoon to calm his suspicions. 

        He'd told her to be cool, not to worry too much. That he was going to need to her to bring the money

soon anyway, thanking her for holding it for him. The two fiends he'd used to the break-in, Chad and Roy,

had been bothering him a lot lately about the rest of their cut of the loot. Something was going to have to

be done about them, he'd said.

   Why do I get involved with these types of guys? She'd thought to herself as she closed the door of her

car. She always felt a bit on edge hanging out at Dan's place. There was this element of menace hanging

in the air. He lived with his brother, Mark, who, she learned, was just released from prison a year before.

That, in and of itself, wouldn't be so bad, if he didn't have that dead eyed, thousand yard stare. He also 

refused to greet her or acknowledge her existence even though they'd been introduced several times. She'd

say, 'Hi, Mark,' as cheerful as she could manage and he'd respond with a blank stare.

    She'd mentioned this to Dan who responded saying his brain was all fucked from what he'd seen over

in Afghanistan when he'd been deployed there in 2005. Besides his weirdo brother there were always 

people there coming and going, either copping from Dan or other dealers making all kind of strange

illegal transactions. Ultimately it was just too male for her, cold, dark. It had no sense of warmth of 

coziness, she always had the feeling the the cops would sweep in at any moment and raid the place.

    She took a deep breath as took out her key and unlocked the front door. She could hear the television

on low as she stepped into the foyer. 

    'Hey guys!' She said as she came into the living room. Shannon and Steve were sitting next to each 

other on the couch, the model happy couple, she thought. 'Hey, I wasn't sure if you were coming back

tonight.' Shannon said sleepily. She had muted the TV so they could talk.

    Autumn sat down on the easy chair next to the couch, her still across her shoulder. 'Yeah I was just over

at my boyfriends for a bit.' She yawned, maybe he forgot, she thought, 'I think I'm just going to go in my

room and lay down for a little bit.'

    'Don't get too comfortable.' Steve said, calmly enough but with an element of menace. 'You and me are

gonna go on a little drive. Just a quick talk, and I'll have you back here for supper.' He smiled a weird, 

creepy smile at her.

    'Yeah, you guys won't gone long right?' Shannon chimed in, she was half-asleep watching her show. 

That all depends on her, Steve thought. 'No I don't think so.' He replied.

    'Alright just give me a few minutes to get ready.' Autumn said, rising from the chair and heading down

the hall to her room.

    Something about that smile, Autumn thought as she unlocked the door to her room. Everything looked

exactly as it did when she left 3 days earlier, but then again why wouldn't it be? She thought. Man, it's

like Shannon's paranoia about the break-in is spreading to me. 

    Fuck, she thought as she put her bag down in her bed and sat down in the office chair in front to her 

computer, I forgot my stuff. Her backpack with all her clothes she'd brought up there. She'd forgotten 

because she was thinking about her meeting with Steve, how she was going to handle it. 

    She'd thought about mentioning Dan, how he was also connected, if it got really bad. Then of course, 

she also had the can of mace she usually carried around in her bag.  She hoped it didn't get that bad. But

that smile Steve had just shown her, the creepy one. It reminded her of her friend Emily she had when she

was little. Emily was one of those friends who, later on, you realize was never really your friend at all. 

Just wanted to use you, get you to do bad things. 

    She'd talk Autumn into shoplifting, taking money from her Mother's purse, all kind of crazy stuff. But

Autumn was never able to convince her parents, especially her Mother, that Autumn was no good, the bad

influence. However, Emily knew just what to say to Autumn's Mom to get her one her side. More than

once she'd felt that she was on Emily's side more than hers. That was what Steve's smiled reminded her

of, and it gave her chills.

        'Take a right up here.' Steve said, gesturing to a dirt path off the state road the led into the woods. 

'Just a little spot I know, where we can get a little privacy.' He explained as she navigated the Corolla 

down the dark path. 

    Shannon was already asleep when he'd knocked on her door and told her time was up, it was time to

go. She'd even tried to ask if they could just do this tomorrow, she was tried from her drive back that

evening but Steve had been unmoved.

  He'd said next to nothing to her as they drove, having her get on the highway, go up a couple exits, then

down the dirt road they were presently on. She had her headlights on, wondering how long it went on like

this until the woods ended and the road led out to a corn field.

    'Just pull over anywhere.' Steve said, 'Then we can talk.' The road continued around the corn and she 

pulled over a few yards down. 

    She put the car in park. 'Look, Steve,' Autumn began, 'I know it looks bad but I honestly have no idea-'

'Shut the fuck up.' Steve said, coldly. He had something in his right hand, black, rectangular, he pressed a

button and a bright blue spark pulsed from the top of it.

    'You know what this is?' He asked her. She nodded. 'Good, because I'm going to ask you a very simple

question right now, and I just need a honest answer, if not, you can guess what happens. Where is my 

fucking money?'

        'Steve I don't know,' she started, he grabbed her by the hand, draw the taser closer, 'Don't make me do

this!' the blue spark lit up again.

    Fuck, she thought. 'It's at my parents, up in Vermont. It's a the attic.' She added. 

'Alright, that's where we're going.' Steve said curtly. 'Tonight? 'Right the fuck now. You really thought

you could get away with this shit, that I wouldn't figure it out? So who was it your boyfriend?'

    Autumn nodded, 'Yeah. I told them most of the good stuff would be and you and Shannon's room. Told

them not to destroy anything, to leave Shannon alone. I didn't even know about the money! I didn't know 

it was going to be there, none of them did, they just..found it.'

    Steve fought back his anger, thinking for a second. It was getting late, almost ten, it was at least two 

hours up there, and he'd have to call Shannon and come up with some elaborate story about why they

were leaving, she'd probably think they were having an affair or something. 

     He put the taser back in his jacket pocket, 'Ok, here what were gonna do. We're gonna go back to the

house, tell Shannon we had a nice talk and everything is cool with us now then, we can go to bed or 

whatever. Except I don't want you calling you boyfriend telling him what's going on with the money or

any kind of bullshit like that. Then tomorrow morning, you'll call your parents come up with some fucking

reason you need to go back up there and I'll come and we'll drive up you'll get the money or whatever is

left of it, and that'll be the end of it.'

    'That's it.' Autumn asked. 'That's it.' Steve replied. 'Except if you try to tell those fucks who ripped me 

off what's coming. Then I'll fucking bury all of you.'

        

    '